


Just because I don't react, doesn't mean I didn't notice

by PepperCat



Series: The Secret History of Hartley Rathaway [6]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mick is not dumb, Possibly Pre-Slash, Team Dynamics, not sure Hartley isn't lying, plot-light or possibly -nonexistent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7080388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperCat/pseuds/PepperCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick isn't really interested in Len and the kid talking. Their discussions are predictable; Len puts requests in and the kid comes back with something useful. Maybe right away, maybe in a week or so. Mick doesn't <i>dislike</i> the kid, and the something useful usually helps with things that're worth doing, but the talking bores him. So he stands in the doorway between the kitchen and what passes for a living room and waits for it to be over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just because I don't react, doesn't mean I didn't notice

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this started out as mostly a writing exercise; I love Mick, but I find it really hard to get inside his head and felt I could use the practice.
> 
> (I hold it as an article of faith that Mick is a lot smarter than he gets credit for. Not very interested in social restrictions like "don't burn people", but not stupid.)

Mick isn't really interested in Len and the kid talking. Their discussions are predictable; Len puts requests in and the kid comes back with something useful. Maybe right away, maybe in a week or so. Mick doesn't _dislike_ the kid, and the something useful usually helps with things that're worth doing, but the talking bores him. So he stands in the doorway between the kitchen and what passes for a living room and waits for it to be over.

Kid's polite enough, but on edge, although that's wearing off a bit as him 'n Len get to talking. Mick wonders if Lisa being around woulda made a difference, or if it's just that the kid's nervous with them in what passes for his home. Wearing a button-down shirt, even if it's the same black as everything else, and standing stiff as if it's still got a clothes-hanger in the shoulders.

"Sure it's difficult," Len says. "Impress me." He's smirking. He gets playful around the kid, and god does it make the conversations drag. Kid keeps his elbows at his sides but laces his fingers together, smiles a little.

"Since you asked so nicely..."

Mick doesn't roll his eyes, looks back at the kitchen. The place is cleaner than it used to be when it was something Len had around as a backup spot. It wasn't ever really _bad_ , it was just dusty. Now the kitchen's at least wiped down, although nothing's ever gonna get those spots off the sides of the stove. What looks like the day's dishes are sitting on the counter, clean and dry, next to a half-full bottle of vodka.

"--in a week," the kid's saying, and Len's looking mildly irritated, mildly amused.

"You slacking on me, Piper?"

"Beatin' slowed him down," Mick offers.

Kid was about to say something and instead snaps his mouth shut and glares, kind of, much as you can glare when you're turning a little red. Len glances at Mick, quick and blank-faced enough that someone else maybe wouldn't catch him being caught flat-footed. Then he looks back at the kid, who let's face it mostly keeps the words up pretty well but is bad at hiding things when he's surprised.

"Hartley," Len says, low and drawling, and the high spots of colour on the kid's face get brighter and he looks-- well. Not at Len, but towards him.

"It's nothing. And it's none of his--" Attention back to Mick. "How the hell did you _know_?"

Mick shrugs.

"I keep telling you; your problem isn't that you think you're smarter than you are. Your _problem_ ," and Len leans forward and Hartley takes two quick steps back and won't look at either of them, has lifted his chin and is looking blankly at what Mick guesses is the top corner of the doorway, "is that other people are smarter than you think they are."

"Yes, alright, thank you for the reminder," all polite through his teeth. "I'll endeavour to keep that in mind."

"So what happened?"

"Bad date."

Len's eyebrows lift. Mick ignores that and watches the way Len's jaw tightens instead and he's thinking that if the kid wasn't a total idiot he would have picked _any_ other way to blow that off. Mugging would be better, even if that might get Len bristling a little depending on where he claimed it happened. Tripped and fell down the stairs would be good if the kid's hands didn't look fine. Bar fight would be perfect.

"Hartley," Len says, stepping back and settling onto the couch and he just _lounges_. Great. He's speechifying. "You might be a bit unclear on this. A _bad date_ is when he won't shut up about his ex, or when his car--"

Mick grumbles low in his throat and goes back into the kitchen to see if the kid's got beer. The vodka's right on the counter, but he's not gonna take someone else's pain management.

Back in the living room; Len's direction, a brittle shiny response, Len's voice dropping to something patient.

There is wine. _Wine_. Mick keeps poking around. Jamaican ginger beer, he feels, does not really count.

"--take my shirt off so you can play doctor?"

For the love 'a god.

"Asking you to tell me what happened."

"It's a personal-- I took care of it." There's a pause. "It's just a matter of waiting for the bruises to clear up."

"How'd he miss your face?"

There's an amused-sounding sniff. "My arms were in the way. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get new glasses with my prescription?"

The pause is one of Len's thoughtful pauses, not his keep-talking pauses. Plus there's the sound of him getting off the couch. Mick perks up at that and heads back out of the kitchen.

"Your personal life doesn't cut into your work," Len's saying. Looking at the kid who, Mick grants, is stubborn as hell but still someone either he or Len could hospitalize without getting worse than skinned knuckles. "You need a hand with that, speak up."

"Because you can't _wait_ to hear me go on about my personal life," eyes to the ceiling.

Len touches the back of his fingers to Hartley's shoulder; the kid's head snaps around and he's looking right at Len for a second before he drops his gaze again.

"You need a hand with it, speak up."

"It'll be fine," the kid says, but quiet, and he's nodding.

* * *

"'Bad date'?" Mick says once they're in the car.

"Just ended up in a fight, I think," Len says. He's looking out the window, fingers drumming along the edge of the car door.

"Stupid."

Len murmurs agreement. "How'd you know?"

Mick shrugs, but it's Len, so he dredges up an answer. "Kitchen stuff, mostly." The kid hadn't reached up even as far as the shelf to put things away all day. Wouldn't've been so stiff if he'd been drinking for the hell of it. Wearing long sleeves where he doesn't need to lift his arms to pull them on over his head hardly factors in.

Mick figures Len's a bit glad that he wasn't in the kitchen so mostly it was stuff he didn't have a chance to catch. Len _hates_ feeling stupid.

But the kid.

"You keep playin' with him," Mick says after a minute. He's not sure if it's a statement on its own, or the lead-in to something else, so he stops. _You keep playing with him, he's gonna get messed up._ 'Cept the kid's already messed up. Mick gets that, what it's like when a ton of bad things come down on your head and when you finally stand up to look at the world most of what you had is gone and nothing's in the right place but a couple of the people are okay. Messes you up and leaves you hanging onto whatever's okay pretty damn hard.

Probably ain't helping the kid that a guy who's one of his okay things looks like Len.

"Nothing serious," Len says dismissively. Maybe he believes it. It _shouldn't_ be anything serious, but with the kid...

It's not the words that worry Mick; the kid's all hiss and scratch, flirts as much 'cause he's used to using it to embarrass people into backing off as for fun. But give him a minute where he's distracted from work or worry or trying to impress, and he starts looking at Len the way Mick looks at lit matches. There's a promise in the light that leaves his mouth dry even if he knows he isn't acting on it.

Len knows it; maybe hasn't _thought_ about it, but he knows it. Wouldn't spend as much time talking in that way that's like playing around the kid if he didn't. Mick isn't blaming him, 'cause it's gotta feel good to be around someone who might look at you that way.

If Len doesn't wanna think about it, Mick talking about it won't make a difference.

Still.

"Kid doesn't flake, he's worth keepin' around," is what he settles for, and keeps driving. Catches Len looking at him sharp and thoughtful, but neither of them say anything more.


End file.
